


Got A Machine Head

by LePipi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hacker Dean, M/M, Smart Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePipi/pseuds/LePipi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working under his brother, Gabriel, wasn't an exciting experience. Until recently, that is. The careful balance Castiel had built in his life was quickly rattled by a new arrival in the company. Said new arrival going by the name of Dean Winchester. ComputerGeeks!Dean&Cas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got A Machine Head

Working under his brother, Gabriel, wasn't an exciting experience. It wasn't meant to be, and Castiel, in a bleak way was comfortable with that fact. Comfortable being the key word, not happy. Happy was ever rarely a word he associated with himself.

Castiel came to understand that if he couldn't be happy, he could be comfortable, in the least.

And there, in the dark, square room writing code for the newest installment in the updated version of their (or put more fittingly, Gabriel's) company's software, his back hunched over uncomfortably, eyes bloodshot from working too hard, too late, is where he was... Comfortable.

Well, he was until recently.

The careful balance Castiel had built in his life was quickly rattled by a new arrival in the company.

Said new arrival going by the name of Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester was a name he first came to associate with 'mystery' and 'intelligence' and 'prodigy'. Later, as the name was attached to a face and a voice he labeled him with 'cocky', 'annoying' and even 'stupid'. And much later he came to use, ahem, different terms to describe him. We'll get to that.

See, he first understood of Dean, by the name of Chester1967, written on a board he used to frequent often.

Castiel being fascinated by computers, their machinery at an early age, found his safe place in the virtual realm. He found an outlet on the internet. Various of message boards, where he could say anything with no conscious consequence. His words were just a pile of ones and zeros that would be lost in the pool of other ones and zeros. In comparison to talking to people in his life, his words have meaning and they leave memory. And they have consequence.

If he ever felt angry he could type it out, if he ever felt sad he could type it out. He even talked to people he came to consider as something akin to friends.

The first time the name Chester1967 pops up, is in an article written by a news station's website that was shared by one of his 'pen pals', as he likes to call them instead of 'friends'.

According to the article, a hacker by the above mentioned name breached the Archangel Zachariah Church's website, stapled a background of cocks on the page, and (Castiel had seen with own eyes) left an hour long gay porn video to run on the home page upon accessing the site(admittedly he'd watched the whole video, he was just interested in the hacker's taste is all).

All of the other pages of gay-bashing, military-hating, slut-shaming were swapped with pages the likes of 'The book of Gaydom!', 'How to give good head?', 'When in doubt, Lube Up!' and various listings of gay porn websites, instructing to 'Support the actors! Make sure to blow your load!'

He fell in a fit of hysterical laughter upon thoroughly inspecting the damage. The board members seemed to agree that whoever Chester was, he was awesome. But, nobody could understand how one person could do all of that. It's one thing to crash a site, but to change it completely and keep it running that way for more than a day took some skill and knowledge.

Even with this great feat accomplished (there was no use pretending to be sorry for a church that supports hate and condemns rationality) Chester hadn't stopped there. He fished out personal info on all of the members of the church and spread it out like wildfire. This wasn't just home addresses and phone numbers. These were nudes, intimate e-mails, church plans, even a couple of gay people themselves were involved in the church, choosing to act behind the church's back.

The media was baffled in the hypocrisy involved, and of the various crimes exposed in the info.

Suddenly it wasn't so important who did it, nor how he did it. Everyone was too busy with the drama with the members to concentrate on Chester.

But Castiel did.

The name Chester1967 was signed on the end of every page brought on the site, and his interests were piqued.

Skilled hackers were a few, and he liked to think of himself as a capable programmer, familiar with hacking, yet not prone to using it, as were the people he associated with on the internet (although, he wasn't sure they just kept it at programming) , but this was a name he hadn't heard of yet.

Apparently no one had heard of him either, and things went mellow after that, the name didn't pop up anymore and everyone seemed to let it go, the media included.

And then, sometime after, another attack. Small, but it still made the news.

A series of network sites breached, personal info stolen from the members and the admin.

And then another, more serious one. Bank accounts stolen, credit card numbers, a lot of money went missing. And again all prescribed to Chester1967.

And then, the last one that hit it big.

Army OP's, top secret government documents unfolded, footage of the vile and disgusting that happened in the war.

And that's when the name Dean Winchester was unveiled and carried from courthouse to courthouse, advocate after advocate, jail cell to jail cell.

Castiel kept track of the process with great interest. He was there when Chester first became known and he wanted to know the end, he wanted to complete the puzzle. Who was he, why did he do what he did, how did he do it, and most importantly, was he going to be safe?

In a weird way Castiel felt like he knew Chester.

A fellow computer geek gone rogue, a man tired of being oppressed for his sexuality, tired of playing nice, tired of being politically correct.

His face was never revealed, they only gave the media his name and the rest was kept in secret.

Rumors circled around; about the case, that it was all too messy for either side to come clean, about him; him as a parentless high school dropout, an unknown brother who got all the money he'd stolen, a lot of things really.

Nevertheless, it was one soap opera Castiel was willing to watch.

And then suddenly, after months of keeping careful track, the case was declared Closed. Nothing more.

No verdict, no guilty, no not-guilty, no nothing. Just a big, blank, capital 'C': Closed.

This was, strangely, a very depressing time for Castiel. It kicked him right where it hurts. He felt like he was left hanging, like he was stood up by a promising date (and boy did he have experience with those).

The first months after the big Closed, he was a man possessed.

He spent all of his waking time in pursuit of his own closure. He wanted a satisfying ending, not a 700 page book with the last 10 pages ripped off.

He searched and searched, asked all of his pen pal's for information, badgered them to find some, to join him in his pursuit, inevitably chasing them off. Without them, he dwelled lower, in the underbelly of the internet, where lurkers were more prone to have information. None over there, only rumors. In his last desperate attempts he tried to crack government files, really anything that had the slightest chance to bring him information.

The last was a risky task, and if he hadn't encrypted his system and IP address so well, it might have ended badly.

-/-

Gabriel didn't even mind him.

His brother knew him all too well. Castiel was a closed-off introvert with a quiet mouth and a loud mind. His computers were his safety net to fall back on when the world let him down. He knew not to bug him, well, not bug him too much when he was in one of his moods. Though this one was more of a trance than a mood.

He was willing to let it go. Castiel was still doing his job, he was eating ( as much as he always ate, which isn't much), he still remembered to brush his teeth ( even though he never did remember to comb his hair) and he still got his sleep (which again, wasn't much to begin with).

Everything was A-Okay as far as Gabriel was concerned.

After a while Castiel fell back to some level of normality.

His blue eyes didn't look so tired, his stubble was back to its normal scratchy self, rather than that beard he sported, but there was still something about him, his posture, his eyes, all seemed to give a kind of defeated feeling.

Castiel would get over it, as he usually did.

He wouldn't even pretend to understand his brother. Cassie was a genius, but a troubled one, as they usually were.

No, Gabriel had more pressing matter.

The boy, the one that circled the news these days, Dane Chester or something was his big issue.

The FBI, the actual FB-freaking-I wanted to put him to work for his company.

Gabriel, being the trouble maker he always was, had made some bad deals and ended up in a mildly serious (because nothing was ever serious with him) theft.

So, an agreement was made.

He was to take in Dane who was to work for him, while he was free of charge if Dane was kept in line.

They made it sound so simple didn't they?

Oh, how he wished it was.

-/-

The first time they met was a very peculiar occasion.

It was the first time Castiel ever felt clueless in front of a computer. Computers he knew, he worked, he understood.

But this... This was a first-timer.

He gave a resigned sigh, still staring at the bright whirl of colors on the screen almost as if they offended him.

He came to the conclusion that it was time for him to date. Real, face to face date with another male being.

The whole business with Chester left him feeling empty, sort of void. The place he'd buried a long time ago came out to the surface. He needed companionship. He admitted to himself that his fixation with Chester was unhealthy one, like being obsessed with a celebrity. He didn't want to be that person, the kind that forgets his own life in order to live through someone else's. And so, here he was.

'GayBot' was the name of the dating site he was currently so concentrated on. The registration page was a swirl of rainbow colors, too bright and too flashy for his little dark room of solitude. First he got to pick a username. He flicked through the members page previously to hopefully understand what was a suitable nickname for himself. He was met with a bundle of '12inch', 'woody82', 'jackndabox' and such. He thought about writing 'respectableindividual' in the username box, but then that was too many letters. He settled for 'cass'. He thought it was quite witty to put the extra 's'. Simple, elegant and, if he did say so himself, sexy. Sexy-ish. Or something.

Well, that's done.

'What are you looking for in a partner?'

What did he expect from a partner? Perhaps just a living and breathing person.

'Companionship'

That was it really. In whatever form it came, whether it was friendship or a relationship or just hanging out.

Next.

'Interests'

Easy.

'Computers, programming, internet, learning'

Wow, that's sure going to pile up his inbox. What a stallion.

Who can hold a conversation with a person whose main interests are machinery? Who would want to hold a conversation with that person? And what does he have to supply in a conversation about going to Rio de Janeiro, about getting drunk and dancing with strippers in a wild night out, about cycling to the Grand Canyon, about anything interesting and fulfilling? Nothing, only his interest to listen and nod along.

Aaand, moving on!

'Sports'

Umm, chess?

'Chess'

He slumped his frame over the desk and bumped his forehead on the screen. He was a failure at life. That's a fact.

Next was his personal info.

This should have been easy, or so he thought.

'Describe yourself in a couple of words'

Ok...

Why should he describe himself? People who describe themselves like to portray a certain idea of themselves and convey it to others, getting them to play along in their own little fantasy.

He really wasn't meant for this...

What was so alluring about his personality that he would share with possible partners?

'Quiet' –He typed out on the white keyboard with slow clicks, the sound muted by his forgotten headphones that hung snuggly over his ears.

And that was it. He slumped his back on the desk chair scowling at the screen. That was all there was to him. 'Quiet'. He was never adventurous, impulsive, playful or fun. He was quiet Castiel that sat at the back of the classroom always minding his own business and trying to be respectful to anyone that chose to converse with him. Respect wasn't something that got you laid.

"You could just type out 'tall, dark and awkward'"- A voice coming from his headphones startled him out of his self-loathing, resulting in a quick swivel of the chair which ended with him splayed out on the floor, a painful groan escaping his lips as he struck the linoleum.

He heard a shuffle of a chair and blinked his eyes open to see a very delighted smile right before him. The face that loomed over him highlighted by the dim lighting of the room was one speckled with freckles, green eyes full with mirth and a grin stretched ear to ear.

Castiel quickly staggered up, his knees wobbling with shock and sudden fright.

"How did you get in here?"-He coughed the words out, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment for the croaky tone and his previous meeting with the floor.

The man's smile only brightened, seemingly stuck on his face.

"Let myself in. Gabriel told me to look around, gave me the directions to my office. Didn't even show me around. Hey are you ok?" –The quick change of topic, the easiness with which he spoke, the way he walked towards him with leisure had him on guard. He wasn't used to people like this, to this light attitude. They always portrayed themselves as welcoming and ended up being assholes.

Walking backwards away from that psychopathic smile he stumbled on his desk, bumping his back there, and before he could stop to collect himself a set of strong arms had themselves wrapped around his waist.

"Woah, there. Wouldn't want you falling down again, right?" –Again that chirpy voice and that unwavering smile.

And again, before he could compose his thoughts the arms changed tactic, and hands were now brushing down his shirt and tie.

"Sorry I scared you like that. You got dirt all over you. 'Should get some guys to clean up in here."- The voice carried a nonchalance, the man's eyes concentrated on the job before him, which was more groping than dusting.

"Stop touching me." –Was the only thing Castiel could clearly voice at the moment.

Everything felt like too much. The new arrival, the fright that still thrummed through his body, the paranoia that this person could have been with him in the room a long while ago, the shame of the act he was caught in, the constant touching and lack of personal space that ran sparks through his system.

He just needed space right now, space to get himself under control and then perhaps he could get the answers he needed.

"Calm down, little buddy. 'Just tryin' to help."- Green eyes turned their attention back to Castiel's own, raising his guard even higher.

"I am clearly older than you."- Was the only intelligible sentence he could voice.

Which was apparently the wrong thing to say going by the way the other man burst into hysterical laughter, doubling over backwards and holding his stomach.

The volume in which the hysterics were played out was the loudest noise the office had ever endured. The sheer strength and liveliness behind the laugh had Castiel rattled, his heart racing. The last 15 minutes were the first time he could remember being out of his comfort zone since high school. The whole situation was alien to him, causing him to go from alert-zone to panic-mode.

The laughing man finally stopped, slowly straightening his body from the crouch he held over the floor, brushing away tears and stifling the last of his giggles.

"Dude, it's okay, seriously, just... You can't say stuff like that with such a... serious fucking face man."-He seemed to try to sober up, catching the expression of a deer caught in headlights on Castiel's face. Sadly, the effort to reassure him had gone fruitless, making Castiel's shoulders hunch up even more, eyes growing even wider.

"What's your name? Or I can just call you sir, since you know, you're older." –The bright eyed man laughed once more, but the joke flew past Castiel, keeping him silent with his feet locked on the spot.

"Or you might be into that thing, so I could just-"

"It's Castiel. Castiel Novak."-He interrupted the rambling man before he could go on, his eyes unblinking, voice the steady rumble it ever was. And for once he was grateful for the 'stick up his ass' everyone insisted he had. That same stick has kept him in self-control through his direst experiences.

The other man's open mouth fell to a small smile, his teeth still peeking out. His eyes traced Castiel up and down, deliberately giving him a once over. Castiel had never really been the object of 'the look'. Sure he'd had partners, but never in that way, never felt himself being something worth checking out. And he knew, dammit, he knew this man was only playing with him, trying to rouse a reaction, but Castiel also knew when to admit defeat. He had him there, feeling a jolt run bellow his stomach, his cheeks flushing scarlet of the effect the man had over him, how only his eyes could get him roused.

The bright eyed man seem to notice this too, his smile growing satisfactory, eyes glinting with entertainment.

So, he was the butt of another joke. Nothing new there. This thought set him straight.

"Now you answer me. What are you doing here and who are you?"- Castiel spoke with a leveled voice. The other man had his share of fun, and now was time for business.

"No need to be so uptight, dude."- He scuffed his boot into the linoleum, bending his head down in mock shyness, giving Castiel a look of his pouty lips.

"Answer me right now, or I'm calling security."-He also knew how to play, and he'd learned early on that people found the combination of his voice and bright blue eyes intimidating and sometimes even scary.

"Okay, okay." –Finally, that confidence was gone, but only for a second.

"You're no fun, you know..." –Again, that mock pout.

Castiel only raised an eyebrow in silence, his expression saying 'Well?'

"Name's Dean. Dean Winchester. Cops got me a job here, with Gabriel. You know, Gabe's kind of a wildcat for such a boring business, and to be frank... Hey... Hey, buddy... Castiel!"

But he was out.

Combination of feelings he'd avoided for so long, and then...

Dean Winchester.

The name.

Over and Out.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this! I hope the computer lingo wasn't too bad. Comments and kudos are welcome and super helpful!


End file.
